


birds

by catarinquar



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/M, Post-Episode: s09e19-20 The Truth, Post-Episode: s11e10 My Struggle IV, Post-Movie: The X-Files: I Want To Believe (2008), Post-Season 9 (X-Files), Pre-Episode: s10e01 My Struggle, Pre-The X-Files: I Want To Believe (2008), Pre-X-Files Revival, The Unremarkable House (X-Files), this has no redeeming value whatsoever it's just an exercise in anti-capitalisation with birds in it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2019-10-16 07:58:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17545751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catarinquar/pseuds/catarinquar
Summary: there's an unremarkable house with an unremarkable garden sitting by an unremarkable lake somewhere in farrs corner, virginia, us, terra, the solar system, the orion arm, the milky way... well, it's a bird sanctuary of sorts, but everyone's welcome.-post-s9. mulder + birds.





	1. birds

they spend the first summer after moving into the unremarkable house painting clapboards and railings, and repairing floorboards and stairs, and then autumn comes creeping and scully leaves for work as a doctor anderson at some small pediatrics clinic in town.

and mulder - mulder, mulder, mulder, who can’t be left alone with nothing to do but apparently can work wood - starts making birdhouses.

he abandons conspiracy websites for for diy-blogs and calls scully, asking her to bring home a printer,  _just any printer, i don’t know, honey,_  while stirring a pot of chili con carne and stressing, just a bit, to make sure it’s ready for when she comes home. she does, and she brings a printer, and they eat. it’s a little better than last time he made it.

by october he’s sawed and cut and carved and painted and set up a dozen birdhouses around the property, and he no longer needs the printed templates, really, but scully  _did_  bring him a printer, so he prints out templates for feeders, too; suitable for that bird and this bird and every other species of bird that might make a visit to their particular corner of farrs corner, virginia, us, terra, solar system, orion arm, milky way -

everyone’s welcome -

well,  _because_ , he’s read up on that, too; started reading up on it one day where he’d put a nail through his finger and sworn and bled and missed his doctor a little bit (a lot) before remembering that there are at least as many different birds as there are cryptids, and really,  _really_ , they’re just as interesting.

sometimes the squirrels will think the bird food is for them, so he spends the first half of december squirrel-proofing all the birdfeeders, and then he builds separate squirrel feeders and deer feeders while he’s at it; everyone’s welcome. everyone, everyone -

in late february they wake to careful chirping at 6 a.m. which is alright because it gives them half an hour before scully has to get up and ready and at them, all those children -

everyone’s welcome.

through march, april, may, june - they wake up to birdsong at 5 a.m., at 4 a.m., and get up to watch the sun and each other and drink coffee on the porch, under a blanket if it’s chilly. it never remains chilly for long.

so that’s how it goes, for a couple of years. everyone’s welcome, but there’s a limit to how many birds you can host in one place or they’ll feel threatened by each other, but the nestboxes need repairs and biannual cleaning, and the feeders - really, they need cleaned with every feeding.

and there are oh, so many mouths to feed. who’d have thought dad’s blood money would go towards ensuring the survival of generations of migratory birds. well, local sparrows, too; but their unremarkable house with its unremarkable garden is a sanctuary in the middle of nowhere, virginia, and everyone’s -

at one point, he starts listening less to the song and more to the sudden silences, ready and reaching for the gun he still keeps in the drawer. there are others hidden under the bed, and they’re not just his.

at one point, scully starts leaving earlier, earlier, she has to make it all the way into d.c. now, and really he cant blame her; he comes to bed later and later himself.

at one point, he stops caring, can’t care about them. scully will leave, early, and refill the feeders closest to the house. caring for him more than the sparrows and wrens, really.

at one point - she stops caring, too.

there’s a short while, after their vacation, where he learns to take care of it again; the years of grime he has to scrape out of the nestboxes is a lesson you don’t easily forget.

nevertheless,  _forget_  is exactly what he does when scully finally leaves, and  _forget_  is exactly what the sparrows and the warblers and the woodpeckers and the the finches and the thrushes do when he stops catering to them, and then they leave, too.

he’s pretty sure that a family of barn swallows move in under the roof, but he doesn’t feel like checking. he doesn’t want to know if it’s  _not_  a family of barn swallows, and besides, everyone’s wel _c_ –  _well_ , everyone’s well and  _just peachy, thanks, scully, how about you?_

she doesn’t go so far as to prescribe him the pills herself, but she does not-so-gently nudge him in the direction of someone else who will.

so, he pops pills and runs miles and buys netted suet cakes to hang out, and it’s not perfect, but it’s a new start. the only thing that isn’t supposed to happen is the re-opening of the x-files, but then again - he’s been waiting for it; the fbi’s most unwanted back in the basement.

everyone’s welcome, and so scully stays over for one night, but a few days later when he stands a little closer, though no closer than he always did, she tells him it wasn’t supposed to happen,  _but thank you for being there for me when mom -_

well, alright, but he’s already been out to buy a 50-pound bag of premium seed mix, though, so there’s nothing for it. it’s not for her he’s doing it, anyway. just for him, like the laundry and the dishes and the pills and the extra miles, all for him with a small, unspoken hope that it could be for some version of  _them_.

the sparrows were always the quickest to forgive, but he even spots a few bluebirds before scully comes back, bringing her stolen dog. august, too late for the concerts of spring mornings, but there’s a blue jay that likes waking them up with that half hour to spare, all throughout autumn.

when most of the birds have fled south for the winter, scully nests in the spare bedroom,  _just in case, mulder_.

everyone’s welcome.

it’s march and their son is dead.

it’s a new march morning and their son is alive, scully tells him, their son,  _oursonoursonyoursonmulderi’msorryi’msorry_ , and their baby is alive, too; an early bird, flapping and making scully sick. mulder holds back her hair and then holds all of her while they cry and sniffle and laugh in the upstairs bathroom because there’s one lonely woodpecker attacking the soft frame of the window.

it’s april and she’s too old to be a mom, and it’s may and jackson comes back only a few days after the swallows, though he’s scrawny, ruffled, and twitchy like a house sparrow that spend the winter months in the cold. he puts up with scully’s nesting, escapes with daggoo for a few hours when it gets too much.

everyone’s welcome.

in summer they repaint the clapboards and give gardening a new attempt. they use a fine mesh netting over the strawberries; this is jackson’s sage advice,  _they’ll get strangled otherwise, man._

in september their daughter comes into the world howling, a night owl and an early bird both. in november, their son says grace at thanksgiving, sending out an apology to the turkey’s distantly related cousins,  _amen_. scully is too sleepy to complain, but mulder doubts she would, anyway.

it’s december and the first christmas tree they bring home is  _absolutely horrible, mulder_ , so they get her a new one but move the  _absolutely horrible_  one outside and decorate it with homemade, net-free suet cakes. jackson wraps his sister up in extra layers, puts her in a sling,  _it’s fine, take a nap, dana,_  and brings her with him on daggoo’s afternoon walks.

it’s january and scully finally gets tired of the less- _absolutely horrible_  tree, so mulder moves that outside, too, suet cakes and all. the cardinals celebrate a late christmas.

it’s january and jackson is sprawling around-not-on-top-of daggoo on the sofa, watching baseball with the volume turned down low. mulder is paying attention with half an eye, looking at his scully curled up in the rocker with their baby girl, both almost asleep. 

it’s january and the bravest little chickadees are having a feast outside the window while the sun sets early. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my sincerest apologies, but go follow me on [tumblr](https://catarinquar.tumblr.com)


	2. junebug birdie

it's an early june morning when mulder first brings the baby with him. she's nine months old, babbling and spit-bubbling and squealing louder than the whip-poor-will before the sun comes up.

jackson's insistent she'll learn to sing yet; he says she'll coo at the sparrows they meet on their evening walks and the chorus will fall silent for a second.  _i'm telling you, dana,_ he'll say, scrunching his nose at scully's wholegrain toast bread and crunchy peanut butter even as he slathers slice after slice with the stuff— _the featherballs know talent when they hear it._

well, their giggly little opera singer is nine months old on an early june morning and mulder's adjusting the straps of the sling again 'cause baby's big brother is a skinny kid, though mulder would never  _tell_  him so—

swinging a bucket of premium seed mix in each hand as they trek through the tall, dewy grass, he blows a raspberry against her sticky fingers when she catches his bottom lip in her pincer grasp.

it's an early june morning, and it's high time she got a feeling for refilling the birdfeeders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was Short but i put it on [tumblr](https://catarinquar.tumblr.com) so it had to go here as well :)


End file.
